Monday
by Romana Dante
Summary: We all hate Mondays, but do Time Lords? A short, post Runaway Bride fic about crash landing in an ice storm and being saved by someone almost as talkative as himself.
1. Calendars

Monday 

Calendars were useless. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd needed one. When you live inside a dimensionally transcendental time ship that can take to any planet in the universe and to any point in that planet's history, the day of the week hardly mattered. Still, out of habit perhaps, the Doctor had always kept a small monthly calendar pinned to the wall of his study for no seemingly good reason. As he gazed at it now, cup of tea in hand, he realized with a sigh that it was Monday.

What was it about Mondays? For a human, he had noticed, they did nothing but cause stress and angst, dread and depression. Mondays were the most loathsome days of any human's week it seemed, though the Doctor had never understood why.

"_It's the start of a new week,"_ someone had told him once, _"Getting up after a nice relaxing weekend knowing you have a whole week of work to get through before you get to stop and sit down for a while." _But why would anyone want to do that? Given the choice of sitting down and resting over going out and doing things, the Doctor would almost always choose to go out. Staying still wasn't his cup of tea, he supposed.

The Doctor sighed as he sipped his large cup of tea. He liked Mondays. Always had, always will. The thought of seven whole new days stretched out before him was exciting, not depressing, and it gave him something to strive for. As the weeks and years and centuries went by, the Doctor had always had Monday to look forward to. Just hold on till Monday, and then it'll all be new again. As little attention as he ever paid to the days of the week, he had to admit the hope Monday always brought him when he discovered the day. Maybe this week he'd do something right for a change.

"Well," said the Doctor, finishing his tea and dropping it firmly on his desk, "This is no way to start a week," He looked around his small study to try and find some inspiration for something better. He only realized it was Monday every so often, to just sit there and drink tea all day would be a waste of a good beginning. For some reason, he decided, this week needed to be fantastic, and he'd need to do something utterly incredible to start it. But what could he do?

Suddenly, the TARDIS lurched to the side, throwing him against his will into the tall bookshelf next to his bed. He sat up, perplexed as he heard the familiar sound of materialization. Was he really landing? He hadn't told his ship to land…what was going on?


	2. Nice Couch

He stood up and rushed out the door, all thoughts of Mondays and calendars gone from his mind. Everything looked normal as he entered the console room; nothing seemed to have triggered an emergency landing. He shrugged and put on his long, brown trench coat. "Might as well see where I ended up," he said, opening and walking out the door. The first thing he felt was rain.

"Lovely," he said to himself, as he locked the TARDIS up to look around, "I've landed myself in the middle of a storm, brilliant." The storm, he noticed, _was_ brilliant. It was one of those huge, windy, icy, cold, miserable storms that change rapidly from hail, rain, and snow without warning. At the moment it was a mix of all three, the light from the streetlamps reflecting off the pieces of hail in the mixture. The Doctor could have spend all day just standing there in the freezing cold, watching the magnificent, glittering storm in front of him. As his curiosity hit him along with the cold however, he realized the best thing to do would be to go inside somewhere and figure out where he was.

Under normal circumstances, he could have easily figured out where he was just by looking at the surroundings. He never usually needed to ask anyone where he was, he just sort of…knew. This time however, the night disorienting enough without the storm, he needed to actually speak to someone. Not that he minded talking. In this body, he was actually quite a good talker, usually to the point of being annoying. It was just that he normally liked to figure things out for himself, as opposed to having to rely on a wholly unreliable ape for assistance. As he mused to himself about the lack of accuracy in most human directions, he barely noticed the glistening sheet of pure ice he was currently walking on, and failed to notice that as he talked he was slipping…

Ouch.

When the Doctor woke up, he was on a couch. It was a nice couch, soft and cushiony but just firm enough to still be comfortable. He was wrapped in a quilt, and had been stripped of his trench and jacket coats. His trainers, he saw as his eyes came into focus, had also been removed, and thrown casually across the room towards a large brown piano. He started to sit up, and was immediately gripped by freezing cold. Shivering, he began to reach for his jacket coat; only to be stopped by someone he had only just noticed was there. "You shouldn't put that on just yet," said a distinctively American female voice.

"What?"

"You shouldn't put it back on yet, it's still as cold as the ice outside, it'll only make you colder now." The woman standing in front of him was young, probably in her early twenties, with strait dyed red hair and green eyes. She was wearing a pair of thick but tight jeans, a white sweater, three necklaces and a pair of long dangling earings. She would have looked like what the Doctor assumed was a normal 21st century teenager, except for the sweater which was much thicker and bulkier then he had seen most humans her age wearing at the time. She looked at him with a mixture of concern and annoyance that the Doctor had grown used to in recent years. He put on his cheekiest smile.

"Hello," he said, "I'm the Doctor."

"That's great," said the young woman sarcastically, "I'm the intern, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure." The Doctor responded, sitting up all the way to face her, "You wouldn't happen to know what happened, would you?"

"You were walking down my street in the dark, in the middle of an ice storm and slid and hit your head. I saw you through the window and dragged you inside so you wouldn't die and make my Aunt pay thousands of dollars in insurance."

"You brought me in here because of _insurance_?" the Doctor asked rudely, "Why didn't you just call an ambulance or something?"

"Can't, the power's dead. Went out about an hour ago."

"Oh," the Doctor couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. A human hospital in God only knows where, USA was not where he wanted to spend his Monday. "So then, would you mind telling me where I am?"

"You're in my house," said the young woman, picking up his trench coat and hanging it over the piano bench, "Or at least, my aunt and uncle's house. It isn't actually mine, I'm only here to intern."

"I see," said the Doctor, eyeing his coats protectively, "And where might that be?"

"New London?" she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The Doctor drew a blank.

"New London?" He couldn't possibly be there, New London was a major city on New Earth, billions of years after this place had been destroyed, he thought. He looked around. He _had_ to be in the 21st century, the house still had an old DVD player in it from 2003. How could he possibly be in New London…

"New London, New Hampshire?" the woman finished skeptically, "That state under Maine? Where did you think you were, Vermont?"

"No, on-" he just barley stopped himself from saying "another planet". It made sense now though, New London, New Hampshire, early 21st century. It would be useless to try and figure out the exact date using the ice storm, this place was so prone to them it was practically an everyday thing. There _was_ one thing he wanted settled though. "Is it Monday?" he asked.

"Yes…" the woman replied skeptically, "Monday, January 15."

"Oh good!" The Doctor jumped off the couch excitedly, "I love Mondays!"

"Really, I hate them."

"Yeah, that's normal, any chance at a cup of tea here? Or do they not do that sort of thing over in the US?" It seemed to hit the woman for the first time that the Doctor sounded British.

"We have tea here," she said, "we're in New _England_ after all, it's pretty much the same thing but with different accents."

"And a bit colder, I'd imagine." Said the Doctor grinning, "Suppose I shouldn't go outside till this storm's over, should I?"

"Or at least until your coats are dry," said the woman flatly, "My aunt's suppose to be back home in two hours though with my cousin, and you should probably be out of here by them."

"Don't worry," he said grinning, "I will be."


End file.
